Painting Flowers
by Hitmewiththestreetlights
Summary: Alice returns to Underland and finds that she and the White Queen aren't that much different. Alice/White Queen femslash or at least it will be, so if that makes you uncomfortable, then I would think twice before reading this.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Painting Flowers [1/2]

Author: Hitmewiththestreetlights

Fandom: Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

Pairing(s): Alice/White Queen

Rating: T

Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers from Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland"

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, or the likeness of the characters or anything of the sort. Lewis Carroll, Linda Woolverton, and Tim Burton probably hit closer to home, although, when Disney do something, they go big, so they may own a chunk of it too.

Summary/AN: Alice returns to Underland and finds that she and the White Queen aren't that much different.

***

It's a fluke, really, the second (_third_) time Alice falls down the rabbit hole. She's older this time (two weeks shy of _twenty-three_), wiser (at least she thinks she's wiser), and still thoroughly unsure of whether she's just completely insane.

It's a hunting trip gone awry. She's not fond of hunting, never has been—she had moral quandaries about killing a dangerous (_possibly imaginary_—honestly, she's been more and more unsure of that lately) Jabberwocky let alone killing an innocent fox—but Lord Ascot insisted she meet this young up-and-coming businessman from across town and she'd hardly disappoint Lord Ascot.

Mr. Jacob, that's his name. Well, Mr. Jacob Coleridge, but he's adamant she call him Jacob and she's just as adamant she not call him Jacob; this is a business engagement after all… except that it's _not_, and she realises that the moment that he mentions his prior meeting with her sister. Then it all makes sense, because _of course_ Margaret would have something to do with this.

Alice lets out a long restless sigh, letting her fingers drift across the long braided mane of the horse beneath her.

Margaret means well, Alice knows she does, but ever since her marriage with Lowell fell apart, she's been occupying most (if not _all_) of her time with trying to set Alice up with a "nice, young man," and it's annoying, this sudden re-emergent interest into her personal life. Sure, there are "nice, young men" out there, Alice knows this, and sure, both her mother and sister were married before they were twenty-three, Alice (not for lack of trying to forget that detail) knows this too, but she honestly cannot find it in herself to be anything but disinterested in it all. The scare tactics don't even work anymore. So what if she does end up like Aunt Imogene? She figures she's capable of delusions far more fanciful than of handsome rich princes anyway and living in those delusions hardly seems like a chore. In truth, she'd much rather be anywhere than here with Mr. Jacob and these looming expectations pressed upon her by society, and her "friends" and especially her sister.

"It's what your father would want, you know?"

Alice turns sharply to look at the man on the horse parallel to her. He's as well-bred of a gentleman as they come this Mr. Jacob; the youngest son of the Lord Chief Justice, as sharp as he is handsome and still as uninteresting as Hamish, and Mr. Rowatt (the last man Margaret insisted Alice see), and Mr. Foster before that.

"You didn't know my father," Alice answers wearily, because she is _weary_, she's absolutely positively tired of it all. She's tired of Margaret and all her crying (because apparently, she's _somehow_ to blame for Lowell being a gigantic sleaze), she's tired of Fiona and Faith constantly barraging her with details about their upcoming double wedding to their Norwegian princes, she's tired of her mother dropping all these hints about marriage and its importance and she's extraordinarily tired of this stupid corset!

"You're right. I didn't." He agrees and Alice almost thankfully thinks that this conversation is over. "But isn't this what every man wants for his daughter? For her to marry into a prestigious family? To have children? To—"

"I'd think that every man would want his daughter to be happy,"

He looks at her seriously—it seems these "nice, young men" her sister keeps finding for her only have two expressions, serious and concentrated, both of which Alice is also weary of.

"What would make a daughter happier than making her father proud?"

Alice's response is interrupted by a rustle in the nearby bushes and like that, Mr. Jacob switches from serious to concentrated, his grip on the leashes of his two Hounds slackening, ready to release the two dogs after the poor unsuspecting creature.

There's another quick rustling, closer this time, and Alice feels her heart almost sink at the knowledge that it—whatever it is—is moving closer to its imminent death.

The Hounds are ready, pounced and drooling, waiting for the rustling bushes to make way, to reveal their prey. Part of Alice hopes that doesn't happen, hopes that the creature will inadvertently wonder off into another director, and the other part of her, well, the other part of her sort of hopes that the bushes will part and reveal a huge Bandersnatch. She's pretty sure Mr. Jacob would be a bit more than serious or concentrated then.

Neither of her hopes seem plausible though because the rustling is getting closer still, so much so that she can see the leaves trembling this time, minutely though, so minutely that she knows it could never be a Bandersnatch.

She can hear Mr. Jacob's breathing shallow, almost to a stop, as the creature's ascent reaches a crescendo. The bushes rustle one last time before the creature makes his timely appearance.

Alice almost releases a breath of relief when it finally does.

It's a rabbit, a white, calm, innocent, and completely-oblivious- to- their-presence rabbit.

It doesn't occur to Alice that Mr. Jacob may still actually hunt it until she hears the soft—almost silent—sound of snakeskin—the leashes, of course it's the leashes—pat against grass.

"Jacob! Don't."She pleads, but the dogs are off already at a speed comparable to lightening. The commotion seems to frighten her horse because he's rearing back before Alice even has a chance to hold on tightly and then she finds herself galloping through the woods, very barely holding onto the panicked creature by its soft braided mane.

It feels like hours before the horse comes to a stop and when it does, Alice is fairly certain she's lost. She dismounts the horse to examine her surroundings and it's then that she is _positively certain_ that she is indeed lost. She walks around, in circles, in straight lines, in random formations trying to identity something—_anything_—that is familiar to her but there's nothing.

It's in her frantic haste that she clumsily trips. She doesn't even see the rabbit hole, doesn't even feel it, until she's falling.

It's probably the longest and slowest fall she's ever experienced—although she's certain she thought the exact same thing the last time and this time really feels no different, or at least she thinks it feels no different.

She still reaches out for her bearings, grabbing at the tremendous gusts of air that slip through her fingers. She's pretty sure that last time her reaction was because she was so panicked, this time it's because she's certain she's going to fall.

And she does.

This time when she hits the floor, it's with a loud crash, the sound of metal colliding with cement almost deafening. It takes her a second to realise that that metal thing is her, well not _her_ but her armour which has seemed to materialize, along with the Vorpal Sword, sometime between her fall and her _hard_ descent to the ground.

The room seems smaller this time, and the doors more in number, but she figures—because she's still the same, she even pat herself down to make sure she hadn't inexplicably grown bigger—that it's just the haze of her memory playing tricks on her.

The table still sits in the centre of the room, upon it the vile, the key and a saucer with a piece of cake. The vile with the purplish liquid is unmarked this time but there's a note on the cake, scribbled almost illegibly.

"Just in case" It reads. She does keep it—hides it in a compartment of her armour—_just in case_, but she doesn't need it at this moment. She's sure to grab the key before she drinks the potion and the door—the smallest door— unlocks effortlessly.

She's not sure what exactly she expects when she enters the small door but it's not this serenity; it's not this tranquil untouched calm. The trees, the grass, the sky, everything seems so peaceful since the last time she was here.

There's a gentle breeze across her cheek. It wisps across her forehead, and then her shoulder and when it doubles back around she sees the blue dust that follows it.

"Chessur,"

The mysterious blue cat appears instantly, grinning cheekily as his tail wisps across her shoulder.

"You rang?" He asks slyly.

"Where is everyone?"

TBC...

A/N: This will only be two parts, so Alice obviously encounters the White Queen in the next part lol but if anyone would like to beta the next part for me, I'd be eternally grateful. =D


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Painting Flowers [2/?]

Author: Hitmewiththestreetlights

Fandom: Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland

Pairing(s): Alice/White Queen

Rating: T

Spoilers/Warnings: Spoilers from Tim Burton's "Alice in Wonderland"

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, or the likeness of the characters or anything of the sort. Lewis Carroll, Linda Woolverton, and Tim Burton probably hit closer to home, although, when Disney do something, they go big, so they may own a chunk of it too.

Summary/AN: _**So, I've officially decided to make this a chapter story because A.) My computer broke, so I didn't get the chance to finish it when I wanted to lol and B.) Well, a lot of people were asking for a chapter story! Speaking of which, thanks for the reviews! Also, thanks for all of the offers to beta! I really appreciate it guys!**_

_**

* * *

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The chubby tabby cat perches himself on Alice's shoulder, the tip of his downy tail curling around the nape of her neck.

"Living life." He purrs indolently. He disappears, but re-materialises almost instantly on Alice's opposite shoulder. It's tremendously unsettling how he does that. "They _do_ have lives to live now thanks to you my dear,"

It's odd how Alice never really put much thought into that. Sure, she's thought about Wonderland since she's left; she's thought about it quite often actually. She's thought about Absolem and metamorphosis and about the Hatter and his absolutely wonderful madness; she's thought about Tweedledee and Tweedledum and the White Queen and McTwisp. She's thought about how it would have been if she had stayed—how much happier she would have been if she had stayed— but never once had she really stopped to think about how it would be different once she left. It _would_ be different of course; she's pretty sure she at very least unconsciously acknowledged that. With order restored and the White Queen reigning over Wonderland once more, Alice supposes that _this_—this curious serenity—is what Wonderland is like on a regular basis. It's different from how she remembers it but exciting all the same and she's eager—more so than last time actually, now that there is no debate as to whether she's the real Alice or not— to explore this _not-so-new_ world.

"Chessur?" The tabby perks up on her shoulder, his tail whipping madly against the metal of her armour. "Do you think you could—?"

He materialises in front of her before she can even finish her question.

"I'll take you to the Hare and the Hatter," He says, grinning wildly. "But that's the end of it!"

He disappears instantaneously and when she sees him again, he's just a scatter of blue granules floating ahead of her.

He appears again quickly, so far ahead of her that all she can really see is the white of his Cheshire grin.

"Coming?" He asks cheekily and Alice just smiles and follows the speckles of blue dust he disintegrates into.

* * *

The massive soaring towers of Marmoreal are distinct even from a good distance off, therefore Alice is neither panicked nor peeved when the blur of blue she is following disintegrates into nothingness. It's not exactly out of character for Chessur to just disappear like that thus Alice simply continues on towards the towers expecting to be reunited with the cheeky blue tabby—his ever present grin in place—at the white gates of the castle.

What she does _not_ expect when she reaches the gates, however, is to be met with a cold, steely glare. The familiarity of the glower does absolutely nothing to ease Alice's nerves. She clutches the sword at her side instinctively – not that there's anything _instinctive_ about having a sword at her side—and takes a shallow breath.

The Red Queen rises from her seat— not seat..._throne_ ; _she has a throne at Marmoreal_— seemingly in slow motion. The scrape of metal reaches Alice's ears before she even realises that she has drawn her sword—not her sword, _the _sword— further. She's really not sure why she keeps doing that; she's absolutely not going to kill—_slay_—the Red Queen, even though she can practically see the wisp of fresh air leaving and entering parted lips like the Red Queen is savouring this moment, like the air being transported into her lungs needs to be especially sacred for this particular— and no doubt impending— "Off with her head!"

Her lips part further and for a quick moment Alice thinks she could do it; thinks that all it would take is a quick draw of her—_the_— sword and a clean swipe across that pulsating—almost taunting—vein in her neck and that would once and for all end the reign of the massive headed dictator. She doesn't though. Instead, she lets the heavy sword sink back into its casing, the mocking clatter of metal crying out her cowardice.

The Red Queen's lips part even more, enough to squeeze out words, and she finally releases an utterance.

"Miraaaaanaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" It's a starling yell; one that reverberates through the surrounding air until it finally dawns on Alice that the Red Queen is summoning the White Queen and that information makes Alice internally panic.

She doesn't want the White Queen to have to witness this; after all, she was the White Queen's champion. She was the one the White Queen had chosen to save her kingdom and here she was, meek and resigned, awaiting orders for her head to be chopped off.

"Yes, Iracy?" A response finally emerges. The voice is bellowing—regal— but weary and Alice automatically assumes the worst. She cannot even begin to wrap her mind around all the terrible things that the White Queen could have been subjected to with the Red Queen reigning once more over Wonderland and at Marmoreal of all places. Not only the White Queen, but all of Alice's friends—the Hatter, the Hare, McTwisp, she wonders what awful things have been bestowed upon all of them.

The Red Queen turns on her heels, her movement so sharp that Alice is worried it's some kind of signal. She glances around her, almost positive that she's surrounded by the Red Queen's soldiers. She's not... At least, if she is, then it isn't painfully apparent.

She watches carefully as the big-headed leader returns to her seat. There are no words, just thick, palpable dislike and the madly melodic drumming of fingers against a velvet armrest. For a moment, Alice doubts her fate—what happens if one dies in Wonderland anyway?—wondering if the Red Queen would much rather prolong her death. She's almost sure when the Red Queen's lips purse into a thin line that that's definitely it; that the Red Queen is plotting numerous horrendous torture methods to delay the inevitable.

The Red Queen's lips tighten even more, so much so that Alice briefly wonders if they will just disappear into her face. She sits up straighter in her chair, her tapping dwindling into the random sporadic rapping of knuckles. She draws in a deep breath and tightly pursed lips finally part.

"You have a visitor," It's not the response Alice expects. She expects something snide, something malicious, something... well _anything_ that's not this oddly quiet, tight-lipped, seemingly random comment. In fact, it appears as if the Red Queen isn't even talking to her.

And she's not. Alice's suspicions are affirmed when there comes a response.

TBC...


End file.
